Cold Winter
by Wildcat08
Summary: On a cold night in 1202 A.D. a small bandit group finds one of their own has fallen to the curse of the vampire! How they choose to heal their comrade is up to them, but could have major consequences on their realm! And, will they be able to stop the vamp


**Summary: **OK folks, this is my first fiction I've ever done, so please when you R&R don't turn me into crispy fritters! Let me know what you think, hate it, like it, etc.

**Legal stuff: **All characters, plotlines, and the story belong to me. If you want to borrow it, or archive it on another site, please e-mail me before you do. :)

Enjoy!

The knight's eyes were bloodshot as he staggered to lean against a rotting tree. His breath came in sharp gasps, sweat flowing down the sides of his face in long rivers. His round shield had fallen to the ground a yard away, forgotten like a young child's broken toy. His broadsword was buried to the hilt in the steaming corpse of a grizzled Scottish archer six feet away.

Blood was splattered everywhere, on the jagged rocks, tree trunks, and the pearl white blanket of snow. It seemed to stretch endlessly into the deep evergreen forest, but in reality its farthest extent was thirty feet.

The sound of crunching snow announced the approach of Victor, an British pikeman who had joined the rogue band a little over a week ago. He eyed the armored form of Zak, who had by this time slid down the trunk and was slumped at its base spread-eagle. He eyed the weakened trooper warily, his experience and training cautioning him against venturing nearer.

Ignoring his initial instincts, Victor knelt beside Zak and tried to remove the man's helmet. A sharp jerk on the knight's part startled Victor enough to snatch his hands back. Zak's steel gray eyes glared at him from the helmet's T-shaped visor, focusing on the pikeman's prominent nose, battling for a hold against the black tides on unconsciousness. He managed to fight it for several long minutes before fading into a coma-like sleep.

Determined to remove the heavy headgear, Victor leaned forward again and finished removing the helmet. White clouds of steam erupted from the helm's embrace, wisps trailing up into the stars. The helmet's long black horse hair plume drooped over the back and dangled in the air, swaying gently in the night breeze. Celtic designs had been worked into the steel, as well as the leather on the knight's gloves, boots, and belt. More horse hair dangled from an arch just behind the cheek protection, attached to a circular crest.

More boot falls in the snow revealed Morwen striding out from between two large pine trees. She walked over to where Zak laid and placed her cool hand on his forehead. Her brow wrinkled at what she felt.

"James, go find Brutus." She placed two fingers against the left side of Zak's neck. "Tell him we've got another one infected."

The brute of a knight Morwen had referred to as James turned and trudged off to find the elusive archer she had spoken of.

Victor stared at her wordlessly.

Morwen noticed the look on his face and answered his unspoken question.

"He's been bitten by a vampire."

Victor looked at both sides of Zak's neck, but failed to see any puncture wounds.

"How can you tell? I don't see anything."

"Look at his teeth and nails."

Morwen reached forward and peeled back Zak's lips to reveal wickedly sharp fangs. Victor nearly kicked Morwen and her charge in his haste to back away.

"Act like you've got a pair, Victor. He's too far gone right now to be of any threat."

He slowly crept forward as Morwen tugged at the thick black gloves covering the Knight's hands.

"See how his nails are much longer and tougher than ours?" For Victor's benefit she forced Zak's large hand to limply spread itself. "That's another characteristic of vampirism."

"Then why turn now?"

"Because he's dying." Morwen paused and pointed. "If you look just under his left pauldron, you will see the broken shank of a Scottish crossbow bolt."

Victor's jaw dropped and he asked. "How do you cure it?"

Morwen favored him with a sympathetic look.

"You don't."

She drew a pointed wooden stake from her belt and handed her hatchet to Victor.

"Remove his chest plate. When I tell you to, cut off his head."

The pikeman caught a glimpse of his friend's gray eye before his eyelid lowered again.

"But-"

"NOW!" Morwen's shout echoed off the trees and sent several owls into a panicked flight.

Victor hacked through the straps on the armor and set it over to the side when he had finished, leaving Zak's chest vulnerable to the stake's unmerciful point. It was obvious that he now longer drew breath. They didn't have much longer before it was too late.

Victor squeezed his eyes shut as Morwen raised the weapon--

"Morwen! Wait!" James and Brutus burst into the churned clearing.

She turned at glared at the two men, her thoughts clearly expressed on her visage.

"This had better be good."

Brutus launched into a hurried speech.

"I know we can save him!"

Her face twisted into one of pure loathing.

"He's going to kill people!" She jerked her head in Zak's direction.

"That's not your friend anymore! He will feed, and he _will_ enjoy it."

Brutus waved his hands in a placating gesture. "Morwen, please. I promise he won't be like the others."

"And you know this, how?" The stake hovered closer.

"We killed the Master who bit him. It died nearly two moons ago."

"Then why is he turning?"

"Once bitten, the victim can never become human again. However, if you could kill your "maker" you would become a Master in your own right. Basically, you'd inherit it's power."

Morwin continued to glare lasers at Brutus.

"He can control his urges much better than your typical vampire, have limited telekinesis, and incredible regeneration. Another point is unlike a Master's minions, he can walk in daylight and be unharmed."

"Do you not realize that he could turn on us at any time!"

"I do, but I believe Zak is much better than that. There are rumors that persistently say the Master Vampires retain their souls, but it hasn't been proven."

A low growl emitted from the dead knight's pale lips.

"You had better be damned right."

OK, so ya'll have managed to get this far! I thank-you for reading this, and please, PLEASE, review! If it does OK in the rating department I'll put up the next chapter!

-Wildcat


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